Demons

Yesterday I had to face my demons and my demon was me. B shared with me an essay he recently wrote for school about an incident that occurred approximately four years ago when I was in the worst of my depressive period. Following is an excerpt:

Pancake Day started like any other day. My Dad woke me up, told me to get myself ready and left the room. I rose out of bed, placidly dressed myself in my regular attire and went downstairs. Amazingly my Dad had made breakfast for me. It was a nice steaming hot batch of pancakes. I thanked my Dad and sat down to begin eating when we heard a door slam upstairs. I heard my contentious brother screaming at my Mom. “No, fuck you! If I don’t want to go to school today than I damn well have a right not to. Jesus Christ, leave me the hell alone!” When my Dad heard this he bolted up the stairs. “J, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I sat at the breakfast table holding my fork. The normally palatable pancakes sitting in front of me untouched; I wasn’t very hungry anymore. “I don’t want to go to school today!” Still, I just looked at the pancakes. “You can’t make me do anything!” The steam was still rising from the pancakes when I heard my Dad explode. Words can’t explain the scream that came out of his mouth. I had no inkling about what happened to my brother, but I heard him crying. My Dad came running down the stairs. “What the fuck is wrong with you kids?” He said it like a statement, not a question. I started to cry. My Dad started pacing. I still remember sitting at the table holding my fork and watching the steam roll off the pancakes. He suddenly went upstairs again than hurriedly came back down the stairs. He looked at me crying. I could feel the salty taste of the tears rolling into my mouth. He saw the pancakes and charged towards me like a madman and furiously ripped them away. “You don’t deserve these. You are worthless!” He chucked them into the trash and stormed out of the house.

Last night, as I read the essay my body stiffened, my mouth went dry and I began to tremble. As I struggled to compose myself, I wrestled with conflicting emotions. I was angry at myself for the pain I have inflicted upon my family. I was angry at B for sharing with his teacher what was likely my worst day as his Father. I was concerned that his teacher might feel compelled to report me as an abusive Father. However, I felt the need to mask my emotions and discuss this essay with its author without making the conversation about me. Ultimately I was unable to completely mask my emotions and I wish I would have had more strength to do so. B and I talked more about the essay this morning while walking the dog and we are working through it.

I don’t ever remember calling either of my sons “worthless”. To the best of my recollection, I have always separated the act from the person. I also don’t remember using the foul incendiary language B described in his essay. However, the factual representation is less important than the memory it left.

Depression sucks… It tears people and families apart. I am lucky that I had a wife that stayed by my side and insurance that paid for meds.

I have been off my meds for over two weeks… Today I took a strong dose of the antidepressant and stimulant. I am in danger of sliding back into the black abyss of nothingness.